Haunted - My Rommate is a ghost
by Alaska McCormick
Summary: Wash is getting home after an accident and something definitely feels off in his house. I wrote this story in memory of Monty Oum, who left us about two years ago. It is my way to honor you. Honor creativity with creativity. "Keep moving forward." - Monty Oum Legal disclaimer: I do not own Red vs Blue or any of the characters, they belong to Rooster Teeth.
1. Coming Home

It had been more than a year since David Washington had last stepped foot in his house.

Putting his bag down, he took a reluctant step into the entrance hall where he used to hang his coat up and placed his shoes on the rack right underneath. They had always been as neatly and efficiently placed as he did now.

Old habits die hard, huh?

Walking around in his socks, he could see that his house was spotlessly clean. The kitchen, the living room, the bathroom… even his bedroom.

He suspected that his friends had looked after the house for him. Given the fact that it was so spotless, it could only have been the joint work of Maine, Carolina, and North cleaning the house thoroughly while he had been in the hospital for his recovery period.

There wasn't even a bit of cat hair lying around in his house that he had grown so fond of during the last few years.

After leaving the army, he had bought that house and had begun taking up stray and abandoned cats who needed a new home. Up until now, he had five cats in total: Theta, Delta, Epsilon, Gamma, and Sigma.

Theta was a cuddly cat who was so small that you could mistake him for a kitten. His behavior wasn't one of a grownup cat, either.

Delta looked like a fucking know-it-all and his expression seemed to be permanently stuck on a 'told-you-so' mode.

Epsilon was an asshole – _all_ the fucking time.

And Gamma… was just _Gamma_. He was a weird cat. He was a kitten from a pretty much feral litter of a cat hoarder who had grown up in awful conditions and then had to be rescued out of a fire from which only two cats out of his entire litter, himself and Sigma, ended up surviving. That must have done a number on him, along with Sigma.

Sigma was a backstabber par excellence. He would purr and then the moment you weren't watching out for him, he would scratch your face.

Or… Gamma and Sigma had been like that.

However, during the time that he had been in rehabilitation, Carolina had taken them to her apartment to take care of them. One time, when she hadn't been watching what was going on with them too closely, the brothers managed to sneak out and they hadn't been seen since.

The redhead had searched for the cats for a full week before attempting to break the news to Wash.

Wash had been somewhat sad to hear of what had happened, but he had always had the same problem with them. Sigma and Gamma had always tried to get out and away at any given chance they found to do so, so it wasn't a huge surprise to him to hear that they had actually managed it while they were in a foreign place.

They also hadn't shown up at his house, so they probably were off fending for themselves.

It had taken Wash a full thirty minutes to break it to Carolina that he wasn't angry with her and that she shouldn't beat herself up over what had happened since he knew it was most likely going to inevitably happen one day with the brothers. It could just as easily have happened to Wash in a moment of carelessness.

Anyways, he could only afford five… no, _three_ cats now and such an amazing house due to being paid generously by the army.

Being honorably discharged at thirty and getting a pretty decent pay for the fuck-up they did sure paid out, Wash mused while he carried his bag up to his bedroom and started unpacking and sorting his clothes.

Soon there was a pile of dirty clothes waiting to be thrown in the washing basket and another pile of stuff that he had needed for the hospital and the rehabilitation center he had been in after being discharged from the hospital. Anyways, after putting the toiletries and other small things away and putting the dirty clothes in the washing basket, he snatched said basket and left his bedroom to head to the basement to start washing his clothes.

It felt like coming home from some sort of holiday, when the first thing you usually did was put your things away and wash your dirty stuff.

Just when he wanted to take the first flight of stairs down to the ground floor, he had the distinct impression that he was seeing someone walk into the spare bedroom at the end of the hall out of his peripheral vision. He would have sworn that he saw a glimpse of dark skin.

Walking downstairs, he shook his head.

He had probably just seen a light reflection from one of the windows where the sun was shining through, or he just wasn't used to living alone again after having been around people for almost a year.

He still didn't like being in a huge group, but during the past several months he hadn't really had many other options.

Padding over the floor on the ground level of the house, he was just about to turn around to take the next stairs down when the doorbell rang.

The ex-Navy Seal suspected that it was some of his friends, such as North, Maine, Carolina, or York, who were coming over to check on him and to bring him his cats who had been living with them while he was recovering.

Opening the door, he could see his friends outside as he had suspected. Everyone was cheering and had their arms full of stuff, along with three transport boxes for the cats.

"Hey, Wash! We thought we'd bring some stuff along. I bet your fridge is empty." York cheered when entering, carrying a huge bag with food.

"No, actually a fairy godmother came by and miraculously filled the fridge." Wash replied in a deadpan voice.

North snickered from behind York, and Carolina threw him a grin.

"Really? Oh well, it's winter and there's snow outside. You can put the stuff outside."

Wash threw him an incredulous glare. He still had trouble deciphering if York really didn't get his dry sarcasm or if he was paying him back the same way. Although he didn't want to think ill of York, he couldn't help but think York really didn't get it. Even less when Carolina rolled her eyes beside him.

"Oh, by the way," said man continued, unfazed by Wash's troubles, "There's some cat food too." York stated with that same easy grin on his face.

He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb to where North stood with an equally large bag, the tops of different cans sticking out of it. The larger man shot him an apologetic smile.

"I wanted them to wait another two or three hours, until you were at least halfway settled after being gone for so long." He explained when passing by Wash, "But York insisted on coming here and bringing you all this food for you and your cats."

"If we had come any later, Wash and his cats would have starved to death." York exclaimed from his way to the kitchen.

York and North made a beeline for said room, while Carolina and Wash stayed in the living room with the three transport boxes in which his cats started meowing impatiently.

Crouching down, Carolina and the blond male opened the boxes.

Theta was the first to appear, toddling out of the box as if it was no big deal. That was just the way he was.

Next was Delta. He was a bit more cautious, sniffing the air as if checking for dangers. Upon noticing that there were none, he came out too.

Their old home was new again to them now since they had more or less accepted Carolina and York's place as their home for the past several months.

Last was Epsilon. He was very strongly refusing to leave his box, hissing and clawing at Wash whenever his face appeared in front of the hole in the transportation box.

In the end, Carolina became so fed up with his behavior that she grabbed the box and turned it upside down until Epsilon tumbled out onto the ground.

Immediately, the blue-eyed Carthusian scrambled under the couch and glared at them from his safety spot there.

Whenever someone walked by there for the next several hours, Epsilon would claw at their feet and leave ugly scratches.

That was actually nothing new. Epsilon often had such cranky days and would attack Wash without a reason, just to be an asshole.

York just happened to leave the kitchen a moment later.

"Hey, Wash, the fridge is- _OUCH_!"

He had gotten too close to the couch, and Epsilon latched out from underneath of it and left four long and bleeding marks on his foot.

"He seriously reminds me of your brother, C." York muttered after having jumped on one foot for several minutes.

Wash brought him some napkins so York could dab off the blood. However, the man insisted on not needing a patch.

After all… a real man knows no pain, huh?

Theta was wandering around in the house, while Delta went to find the most important things for a cat: the food and the litter box.

Epsilon still was hissing from underneath the couch.

Since it was too dangerous for their feet to sit on the couch, the quartet decided to sit in Wash's kitchen to have some coffee.

"How are you doing Wash?" Carolina asked after a while.

"I'm fine." He replied, adding upon seeing the doubtful glances of his friends, "Really. My knee sometimes hurts a bit still, but otherwise I really am fine."

This seemed to put his friends at ease, although they still seemed to be waiting for more information.

"Really, I'm doing fine." Wash sighed heavily, "It's not okay yet, but it's on the way there. The accident was rather serious. I'm lucky to still be alive."

"Speaking of which..." North interrupted, "The driver was too shocked to say anything more than that he did not want to kill you and we didn't want to bother you with that." The man stopped talking for a moment, looking thoughtful, "But we are still missing some details about what had happened. The driver of the car only said that you were suddenly standing on the street."

Wash sighed. "Yeah… I was reckless, I know." He lifted a hand when North opened his mouth to say something, "However, I had my reasons."

With that, he started explaining.

 _He was just coming home from his daily jog in the woods close to the house he was living in. He had been doing so every morning since his military days, as he thought it to be a great way to start the day and to be ready and energized for what would come later._

 _However, he had decided to quickly drop by the Blood Gulch Donuts to get a coffee and some donuts for his breakfast, which was a rather big exception since he wasn't so into sugary things. But on that particular day, he felt an unrelenting desire for something sweet._

 _He had just rounded the corner to the street where the BGD was located when he saw a young boy leaving said shop who was only a few meters away._

 _He had on black jeans, dark blue shoes, and a teal hoodie. If the cable disappearing into the hoodie over his head was any indication, he had headphones on. The boy also had a steaming mug in his hand that he was just taking a sip from._

 _Without even looking, the young boy who Wash suspected of not being older than ten or eleven, walked out into the street. Just when he had stepped foot into the street, a car skidded around the corner that was going way too fast and way over the speed limit._

 _Wash could see the driver hitting his brakes, but the ex-Navy Seal just_ knew _that he wouldn't be able to stop in time. To make things worse, the boy stopped moving and looked at the car like a deer caught in the headlights – literally. He did not move an inch to save himself from the car._

 _Wash reacted without thinking. Sprinting forward, he managed to push the boy out of the way just a second before the car was there. Instead of the boy, the car hit the man and his head slammed into the windshield and his body onto the bonnet._

 _The funny thing was, he didn't think he was going to die. He more or less thought that he always had a bad track record when it came to cars. What could he say, cars just hated him._

 _The car came to a stop finally, his body getting thrown off the car and hitting the ground. He skidded over the tar some meters before he came to a stop on his back._

 _It was strange. He didn't feel anything really. His body felt numb, but he didn't feel any pain. And given the injuries he must have, he should have been in horrible pain._

 _However, he just felt… Nothing._

 _Immediately, there was a flurry of people around him and someone must have called an ambulance at some point since he heard the horn from it sometime later on._

 _There were hands on him, and some people were turning him on his sides to make it easier for him to breathe._

 _And then there were other people around. There were people putting an IV into his arm, asking him who he was and if they should call someone._

 _He remembered himself rasping out his name and saying that he had a wallet in his jacket with his ID card. He remembered saying something about calling Carolina. He had her name as an emergency contact in his wallet._

 _After being released from the army, he had asked his squad leader if she would be okay with him putting her as an emergency contact since Wash didn't have any relatives left._

 _Well, that's how Carolina learned of his severe accident._

 _Wash had been in an artificially-induced coma for about a week only to make his head injury no worse than it already was. Cracked skulls weren't funny, he could say that much._

 _In any case, after waking up and being somewhat coherent again, Carolina had come to visit him. His remaining friends from the squad had been visiting him, Carolina being the first at his side with a packed duffel bag full of his clothes and everything he needed for personal hygiene. She was correct with her assessment that he would ask for different stuff later on._

 _Anyways, after waking up and being coherent again, Carolina had showed up and lectured him about being reckless._

 _Well, if reckless meant saving a life… then he would gladly be reckless._

Breathing in and out deeply, he looked up from his cup of coffee and looked at the others sitting around him.

"I wasn't hallucinating, okay? There was a boy. He seemed to be deep in thought and he was in a direct line with the car. I just wanted to save him."

"There were several people who said the same thing. However, when the police arrived, the boy was already gone." Carolina said in a stern tone.

Wash knew that she believed him, but she was a realist at the same time.

"Maybe he got scared and ran off? I'm sure he's happy you saved him back there though." North tried helping out, and Wash nodded to that.

A _thank you_ from the boy sure would have been nice, but since he doubted that the boy would show up again after so long, he decided to be happy with the fact that he had saved a life that day.

The boy was so young, he still had his whole life ahead of him. He shouldn't be the one bleeding out on the pavement.

After some hours had passed, his friends decided to leave for the day as York and Carolina still had some planning to do for their new apartment.

After years of making dreamy eyes at each other, they got their shit sorted out and had finally become a couple. This was their first apartment together and they wanted it to be absolutely perfect.

Wash was happy for them, albeit he felt a bit lonely.

He had never had someone be as close to him as Carolina and York were to one another. It hurt seeing them like that sometimes, although he felt happy for them all the same.

It was strange, but he didn't let himself think about that hollow feeling in his chest for too long. He probably would find someone later on since the chances of meeting your soulmate was higher around here than in the army in the Afghan desert he had been stuck in for the past three years.

North was still single too, although Wash highly suspected his gentle friend of having something going on with a girl since he seemed happier for the last few weeks. It looked as though he got someone now who was doing him a world of good too, then.

Getting up from his seat with a small pained voice as, okay, his knee still _really_ hurt, he walked to the washing basket that was still waiting for him by the entrance to his house.

Walking over to grab the basket, he noticed that it was standing about two feet away from where he had put it down.

Well, he had probably only imagined putting it there originally and had actually put it where he ended up finding it. None of his friends had been near the basket, so it must have been that.

Grabbing the basket to walk down to his basement, he again had the impression of seeing someone walk into the living room from his peripheral vision.

Seconds later, he heard Epsilon hiss like a madman.

"Epsilon! Stop being an asshole!" He called out, not giving either incident a second thought and going to wash his clothes.

His mind was probably playing tricks on him.


	2. Haunted!

Things were becoming increasingly annoying with all of the strange events he thought that he was seeing. And now, to make matters worse, even his cats were beginning to act strangely.

It wasn't much at the beginning. He would just often have this feeling of someone being with him, even when he knew that he was alone in the house.

Then, he kept seeing people walking around in his peripheral vision.

Or, to be more accurate, just one person.

He had the distinct impression that it was always the same person who was walking around his house. He was sure by now that it was a dark-skinned man, who was just a bit shorter than him.

Then there were the things that kept getting pushed around. Such as the basket on his first day back.

Then there were his pain pills being on the other side of the sink in the bathroom from where he was positive he had placed them before. There was his shirt that was removed from his bed. He put on another one to go to sleep that night, but found the other the next day under his bed.

His cats were acting strangely too.

Epsilon hissing wasn't so much big news, but Theta and even Delta doing the same was pretty bizarre. They could be lying with him on the couch and watching a movie one moment, and then in the next they were up on their feet, hackles raised and hissing at the fucking air.

This was definitely strange and he really had no clue what was going on with them. However, he suspected that they were just having a rough time adjusting to their new living situation.

What was the most unnerving thing was that his phone and MP3 Player were always being depleted of any energy.

He had even bought a new MP3 Player because he thought that his old one had simply kicked the bucket, but the new one was acting strange too. He could charge his phone and his MP3 Player fully, but after an hour they started honking and informing Wash that their batteries were almost empty.

This, however, only happened when he was in his house. If he was outside, the batteries in either device didn't deplete quite that fast.

What was the strangest thing of all, however, was that he had the distinct impression that something always happened after either of the batteries became almost depleted. Either that something in his house was shifted around once more or that Wash was again seeing someone out of his peripheral vision.

The most peculiar thing was, he was also feeling a bit more sluggish than he had during recovery. Shouldn't it be the other way around?

He felt like something was draining his energy, but he pushed the thought aside since that was bullshit.

However, after some days of these things getting progressively worse, he felt like snapping. He even saw a chair move this morning without him doing anything!

And it felt like someone was sitting at the table in his kitchen with Wash.

He started feeling incredibly nervous and when the phone went off he almost threw it away because he had gotten so scared.

After some seconds of trying to get his nerves back in check, he answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Wash, how are you?" Wash could hear noises in the background, so he suspected that Carolina was calling from her work that she had taken up as a fitness instructor.

She must have been on her break. She couldn't go without working and so she had accepted the offer of an old high school friend to join her gym for some hours during the week.

"I'm fine." He answered, but it was a lie. He felt like snapping. The whole morning had been fucking with his nerves.

His phone was constantly empty, things got moved around and shit… it was horrible.

He was even starting to hear shit now. Like a whispered, _"Dude, really? You're watching_ Private Practice _? That's so fucked up."_ among other things.

Carolina seemed to notice his discomfort and the obvious lie. She sighed deeply. She always had been the best at reading him, it didn't matter if she could see him or not.

"Wash, what's up? You sound like you haven't slept at all."

"I haven't." the younger man replied honestly this time. He learned long ago that being honest had brought him further in his friendship with Carolina than lying did to spare his dignity. She hadn't left him any choice in the matter, either.

"Because of the pain from the accident?" She asked, and Wash shook his head.

He realized that Carolina couldn't see him doing so and answered vocally, "No. It's not that. I am probably just imagining things."

This seemed to alarm Carolina, "What's up?"

"I don't know what's up, really. It's probably idiotic and nothing, but I think I hear… things. I feel like I am seeing someone walk around in my house in my peripheral vision and there are things getting moved around. Even Theta and Delta started hissing at nothing but thin air." Dragging a hand over his face, he sighed heavily.

After having gone through so much shit in Afghanistan in the past with bombs and attacks on their base, he felt relatively safe telling her about the latest developments in his house. Shit like what happened in the war tended to bring people together more tightly than anything. Seeing so much shit probably led to neither person judging what the other was saying when they were witnessing strange occurrences.

Carolina was silent for a long while before she asked something that threw Wash completely for a loop.

"Are the batteries for your electrical devices constantly empty?" She asked so deliberately that Wash had to do a double-take and look at the phone just to make sure that he really was still connected with his former boss.

"Uh… yeah, why?" He asked, blinking at the phone as he waited for his ex-boss to say something.

She was walking around in an empty room if the sounds he heard from the phone were any indication.

Wash walked around his living room, seeing a picture hanging strangely on the wall and adjusting it absentmindedly. It had moved without him noticing.

It was a picture of his squad from when Connie still was alive, before a bomb tore her to shreds, made Maine mute, and caused York to lose his left eye.

"And then strange things happen?" She continued, Wash making a strange noise in the back of his throat.

Wash only nodded before again remembering that they were connected over the phone, "If you ask like that… Yeah. It is always when the batteries of my electrical devices go empty that something strange happens."

There was another long silence before Carolina said something that made Wash gape at the picture with his mouth hanging open.

"I guess, Wash, that you have a ghost in your house." She said calmly, and Wash felt his phone buzz.

"I… what?" Wash squeaked, feeling his anxiety levels rise.

He didn't believe in ghosts, but everything that was happening made his resolution falter and Carolina saying that of all people didn't help him lessen his nerves any. Besides, ghosts usually are bloodthirsty monsters, at least according to the films that he had to watch during his army time.

Carolina was grinning by the sound of her voice, "York loves to watch series about ghost hunters on TV. I happen to see them too." she explained, Wash's phone buzzing again.

"Battery empty?" She asked deliberately and Wash groaned.

"Second time this day." He muttered and Carolina snickered.

"I would guess that someone is going to make an appearance. I am off for now, my client arrived. See you."

Carolina hung up right after Wash barely managed to get out a "See you." before Carolina was off.

"Dude, you want to stare at the phone all day?" a voice rang out besides the ex-soldier, making him jump in surprise.

"Dude, seriously, I've been trying to get your attention for days!" The voice continued unfazed, sounding just a bit annoyed.

Looking closer, Wash could see how a human figure had started to appear until a man roughly around Wash's age was standing there before him, arms crossed and looking utterly annoyed.

"Err— excuse me? How is pushing things around a way to get my attention?" Wash asked, looking at the slightly translucent figure standing in front of him.

The light from his lamp on the ceiling flickered and all three cats had run off to safety. They were no doubt searching for it under his bed.

"Because that's what ghosts do? Throw stuff and push shit around?" the man replied, cocking an eyebrow.

He indeed had dark skin and long dreads, pulled up into a pony tail.

"I— you— what?! You're a ghost?! But— that's impossible!" Washington exclaimed.

"I am standing here, aren't I?" the man replied dryly, regarding the man who was gaping at him in return.

Wash sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

"How about you introduce yourself before acting like a dick?" he grumbled, staring at the ghost and feeling as annoyed as said ghost looked.

Wash had seen some strange shit. People being ripped into pieces or having their limbs torn off by bombs, cripples walking around, men and women wearing the strangest clothing and having the strangest of abnormalities. However, he had never seen a ghost so far!

The ghost grinned broadly, winking at Wash. "My name's Lavernius Tucker. But for you it's just Tucker, buttercup."

"What." Wash replied, his mind still reeling to wrap his head around the fact that he had a ghost standing in his house and that he was fucking talking with him, not even realizing that the ghost was flirting with him.

"So then, Tucker, why are you here? Shouldn't you, I don't know, leave?" Wash asked the first thing that came to mind when he managed to force his reeling mind back into working.

"Go into the white light? Nah, honey, I'd rather stay here and screw with you. Bow-chicka-bow-wow."

The ghost winked again and Wash couldn't help but groan at that, already feeling annoyed by the imbecile behavior of the young ghost and completely forgetting about him being a paranormal phenomenon for the moment.

"Then why are you haunting me? My house doesn't even resemble a haunted house." The ex-Navy Seal asked.

"Aside from you being smoking hot?" the young man spouted, grinning broadly.

Wash could feel his face heating up at Tucker's words. His ears were getting warm and he started spluttering something incomprehensible, which was answered by Tucker with an even broader grin.

"Yeah, I wanted to thank the guy who saved my son back then." Tucker suddenly said deliberately and Wash blinked at him several times, totally baffled.

"Huh?" was the only thing that Wash was able to get out.

"Yeah, duh. You saved my son almost a year ago? The boy with the teal hoodie? That's my Junior. I wanted to say thank you for that." Tucker explained, a fond expression appearing on his features when he was talking about his son.

Wash couldn't help but thinly smile at that, seeing that open display of affection and pride towards his own offspring.

"Uh, you're welcome." Wash muttered, still perplexed, before another question popped up, "I don't remember Junior ever visiting me, so how did he know who saved him?"

"I happened to be in the same hospital as you." Tucker replied, his face darkening and Wash got the sinking feeling that this was something he didn't like talking about, "I was at the station for incurable patients." His voice got lower with every word.

"I'm—" Wash had to swallow before he could continue, "I'm sorry, Tucker."

"Nah, don't be." The ghost then waved him off with his easy grin, "I died about three months ago and came to your room in the rehabilitation part of the hospital when I was sure that Junior was going to be taken good care of." Tucker continued, a sigh escaping his lips before he muttered, "At least as well as can be expected for teenaged kids who have nobody left and no money to pay for shit."

Wash didn't know how he should respond to that, so he decided to keep his mouth shut and wait for the dark-skinned ghost to continue.

"I had a severe and acute case of leukemia. It took me about nine months from the first symptoms until I was six feet under. Well, life sucks, and not in the good way. Bow-chicka-bow-wow." Tucker again spouted that line and Wash got the growing feeling that it was some kind of catchphrase for the ghost.

He couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"I can relate to that." Wash replied, moving his injured leg since his knee had started hurting from standing the same way for several minutes now.

"I know, and I'm sorry. For what happened to you and that Junior never showed up. He's a good kid, he just lost everything in a crucial time of his life." Tucker said, scratching the back of his head, "His mom died giving birth to him and I was the only relative he had left, and now he's lost even me." He muttered sadly, looking to the ground.

"I'm sorry for that. I hope your son is going to be fine." Wash replied, somewhat at a loss of words on how to reply to something like that.

Tucker only sighed deeply at that.

It was then when Wash asked, "You wanna sit down on the couch? We can watch something."

Ghost or not, Tucker seemed to need some kind of distraction right now to take his mind off of sad things. Or, at least, Wash felt like this was the case.

"As long as it isn't another episode of _Private Practice_." The grin was back and Wash rolled his eyes.

"Haha. Very funny, Tucker."

With that, they both sat down on the couch, the cats coming back some time later on though they kept their distance from where Tucker was sitting.

Wash distantly remembered that cats were said to be halfway on this side and halfway on the other side, being especially sensible to paranormal phenomena. So, it wasn't all that surprising that they noticed Tucker being around.

He wondered if they could even see him, or if they just noticed something was up that did not belong to this place here and were simply keeping their distance from it.

Days turned to weeks, and it became somewhat normal for Wash to have Tucker around. He wasn't even spooked anymore by the fact that Tucker was a fucking ghost and had been dead for almost half a year now.

Okay, he ever so often still almost jumped through the roof when Tucker decided that it was a funny thing to spook him by appearing out of nowhere, or by sticking his head out of walls or even the toilet bowl.

Slamming the lid down on the toilet when he did that didn't help any aside from the fact that he had to replace the toilet seat at some point. Tucker only laughed at him for being such a fucking damn scaredy cat.

During the last few weeks, they had fallen into a routine as easily as if they had been living together for years. Like this was something that they hadn't always done.

Like they _belonged_ together, living like that.

Waking up in the morning, he had to push Epsilon off his head. This fucker of a cat thought it would be funny to sit on his head at six in the morning because he thought it was time to get fed.

Getting up from his bed, he walked down into the kitchen to feed his cats and get himself a coffee.

"Dude, are you always up so fucking early?"

"Good morning to you too, Tucker." Was replied dryly, focusing on the coffee that he was pouring into his cup currently. He added some sugar and sat down at the table, "And yes, I am always up so early. Epsilon doesn't leave me much other choice."

"How about throwing the cat out and locking the door?" Tucker arched an eyebrow.

"Did you see the scratch marks at the door?" Wash looked over the rim of his cup to see Tucker gape at him.

"Wait, so that was the cat?" he asked, Wash nodding before taking another sip, "And here I thought that was your girlfriend you screwed so damn well that she scratched the walls. Bow-chicka-bow-wow!"

Rolling his eyes, Wash decided to take another sip of his coffee, "I have no girlfriend." He replied bluntly, reaching down to pet a meowing Theta.

"Then a fuckbuddy. However, I always thought you're a monster in bed whenever I saw those scratch marks." Tucker grinned at that and Wash felt his face heat up.

"I— I don't have a fuckbuddy!" he replied, his voice raising an octave and his ears burning hot, "Besides, that doesn't even make sense! The scratch marks are on the other side of the door!"

The ghost chuckled at that. "One could say you didn't manage to get into bed before things got sexy."

Wash didn't say much to Tucker's comment, only replying with, "I can't anymore. Not since…"

"Afghanistan." Tucker finished Wash's statement for him after he trailed off.

A heavy silence settled in before Tucker exhaled loudly, "Dude… shit, I'm sorry. I—"

But Wash interrupted him, "Don't. I didn't tell you, so you couldn't know."

The dark-skinned man made a face.

After another silence, Tucker spoke up again, "It's PTSD, isn't it?"

Wash decided not to answer verbally, instead only nodding curtly.

"Do you… I mean, are you getting help for that?" Tucker looked him over with a concerned glance, to which Wash only shook his head in response.

"Why not?" Gosh, couldn't Tucker stop asking questions?

"There are younger soldiers and those with families. They need it more than me." He replied simply.

Tucker scowled at that, "There isn't a limitation on people who get treated, Wash." He started, shutting Wash up when he wanted to reply, "You're thinking that this is some kind of deserved punishment, is that it? That you deserve to have PTSD because of whatever shit went down in Afghanistan? That's why you live in the outskirts of the city? Away from loud noises and shit?"

Wash closed his eyes, putting the cup down and breathing in and out deeply.

"If you want to put it like that…" he trailed off, rubbing over a scar on his neck. It was from a piece of shrapnel that had tore open his neck and almost paralyzed him by cutting off the nerves in his neck.

"That's fucked up." Tucker muttered, glaring at the table as if it did something to personally offend the ghost.

"I mean, why do the good people always have to suffer like that?!" Tucker suddenly flared up, shooting up from his seat and starting to pace the kitchen.

Wash was sitting there. He blinked at the ghost, taken aback.

It took the ex-soldier awhile to get his bearings back in check.

"It's okay, Tucker. I got used to it. Never mind." His statement made it pretty clear that he was done discussing the subject.

While he was taking another sip from his cup, he could see Tucker stare at him with a sympathetic glance. It was similar to the way someone might regard a kitten who was left out in the icy rain in the middle of a cold winter's night.

It was silent for another long while until Wash, sitting opposite of him, decided to get up and start his day.

Upon standing, the blond-haired man stretched his spine until it cracked.

"Ouch dude, that sounds painful." Looking back over his shoulder, Wash could see Tucker staring at him with a pained look on his face, like this crack hurt him physically. Which wasn't possible anymore since he was a ghost. Or whatever…

"Not as painful as it sounds. I've gotten used to it." The ex-soldier replied, making his way up to his bedroom, with Tucker following him with a contemplative look on his face.

"Is that from the accident?" He asked suddenly, Wash stopping short in front of his bedroom door and turning around to face the ghost.

Wash had long ago noticed that Tucker wasn't much shorter than him and he was surprisingly well-built. He had muscles outlining his body, but he wasn't overly muscular. He was just the perfect image of a well-trained man.

His thought screeching to a halt inside his mind, Wash felt his face heat up again when he realized that he was checking Tucker out.

"Uh— I—" he stuttered out, his mind still reeling. Before Tucker had the possibility to say anything and make it even more awkward than it already was, Wash managed to get out, "Err— Yes, it's from the accident. Also, the knee." He gestured down to his damaged knee that hurt slightly once more.

"Shit… I'm sorry, dude." Tucker muttered, looking guilty at the fact that Wash was having such health issues due to saving his son.

"Don't blame yourself for something you couldn't have prevented." Wash replied, entering his bedroom before he could check Tucker out any further.

He already knew that Tucker was good looking and appealing, but Wash seriously had to get himself in check. Getting a crush on a ghost? Seriously!?

Searching through his dresser, he looked around for some running shorts and a shirt, noticing Tucker walking through his room and sitting down on the bed, "I know, I just feel like I should have been there to protect Junior."

"You were in the hospital, Tucker. You couldn't have done shit." Well, Tucker's way of speaking was obviously rubbing off on him.

Immediately, Wash bowed more over the dresser drawer and tried to bury his face in his underwear when he felt another blush creeping up his face. Seriously, he had even started thinking in innuendos!

"Besides, I am glad I could help. We both survived, so it's a plus." Wash continued, trying to play his awkwardness coolly.

Tucker made a sound in the back of his throat that Wash couldn't quite place, but decided on leaving it at that.

For Wash, surviving was the best he could ask for. He was in Afghanistan and had survived and seen worse. He had even gotten the nickname "Cat" during his time on the other side of the world, since he had a tendency to survive shit that others would have died from with nothing more than a scratch and some dust in his hair. His luck sometimes was incredible. It was like he had nine lives, just like a cat.

He had survived the bomb explosion that had killed Connie and injured both Maine and York, although they hadn't been in the direct vicinity of the bomb.

Wash had been lucky to survive without so much as a torn eardrum. There had been the leftover bonnet of a car that was blown up that had shielded him from the worst.

Since then, he felt guilty for having survived. He had activated that bomb by stepping on a tripwire due to being the innocent idiot that he had been back then, but it had been Connie, Maine, and York that had gotten injured.

He, who had caused all of that, had survived without so much as a scratch.

Making a face, he gathered some socks and the rest of his running gear. He threw them on the bed.

Wash was fairly certain that Tucker had seen him making faces along with going through his memories, but he was tactful enough to not comment on it since he seemed to feel that this was a sore subject for the ex-soldier.

Grabbing the shirt, he held it in his hand and looked over at Tucker.

The ghost replied to the glance with one of his own, not moving an inch.

"Uh, do you mind?" Wash muttered, feeling his face turning pink once again.

Tucker only raised an eyebrow at the question.

The ex-soldier felt exasperation bubble in his chest, but he pushed it down, "I am going to change, so would you please leave the room?"

"Oh, don't mind me." Tucker replied with a grin, "It's not like I can't see you without you noticing me being around." The sardonic grin became wider.

Wash pulled a face, "I don't want to know. So, do you mind…?"

Tucker groaned, but got up nonetheless, "God, you're such a killjoy."

"Glad to be of service." Wash muttered when he heard the ghost leave the room and slipped out of his shirt.

It hadn't only been because of the thought of Tucker watching him change. He was self-conscious in general when it came to his body due to all of the scars and all of the issues he was carrying around.

He was not intact anymore. Neither emotionally nor physically.

His body was a mess and he preferred that nobody saw what a mess he really was.

When he came back in the evening, he could see Tucker sitting on the couch with his cats all crammed in the space on the other side.

After a short greeting, Wash went upstairs to get a shower and to calm down. During his whole run, his mind had been wondering about him and Tucker… about the guilt of being alive and the baggage he was carrying around constantly.

He wasn't a good person, but he had learned to live with it.

Wash was also aware that he wasn't the only one who suffered from PTSD and that he wouldn't be the last one to get diagnosed with that disorder.

Walking down the stairs, he heard his phone ring.

"Looks like someone is missing you. The phone has been ringing since you went up for your shower." Tucker commented, not taking his eyes off of the TV screen where some sci-fi show was currently airing.

Since the blond man wasn't as into those kind of things, he tuned it out and grabbed the phone.

He answered it when he entered the kitchen.

He didn't have much time to say his hellos before Carolina cut in, "You ever thought about becoming a ghost hunter?"

That was just the way the woman was. Not beating around the bush, but getting to the subject directly.

"Uh, what?" Wash asked unhelpfully, which drew a long sigh from the woman.

"I asked if you had ever thought about becoming a ghost hunter. Paranormal investigator, whatever. Since you can see ghosts, you would have a big advantage compared to other mediums."

He took the phone from his ear to look at the screen to confirm that _yes_ , Carolina was on the phone still, before he again looked at it.

"Uh, no?" He replied, still not really knowing what to make of that question.

"Then start thinking about it. I was talking to an old friend from high school who is a ghost hunter. He's kind of a techie who finds and talks to ghosts mostly because he knows how to read his instruments." Carolina started explaining, as Wash's mind was still reeling, "However, he is missing a medium and when I told him that you can see ghosts and have one around, he said that he wanted to get to know you… maybe team up with you."

It was silent again with Wash still trying to process what he had just heard, "So, you want me to go hunt ghosts and do what?"

"Mostly only confirming that they're around. Maybe Tucker can help too. In any case, if you need to get rid of the ghosts, Tom, my friend, has another medium at hand who knows the cleaning rituals until you get into the groove yourself. Now, what do you think? It's not a fulltime job, just some days a week or even a month, depending on the people asking him. And it would mostly be during the night too, so you can put your insomnia to good use."

Of course, she would bring up his insomnia and how he sometimes wasn't sleeping for days. It wasn't enough that Tucker was needling him about that too now.

The blond man sighed, "Okay, so you want me to go to stranger's places and check if they have a ghost spooking them." He asked, only for clarification.

"Or a demon, but yes."

"What!?" Now _that_ threw Wash for a loop. Demons!? How would he be able to battle a demon?

"A demon, creatures from Hell. But for those kind of things, you would need an exorcist from the Church or a demonologist, but you won't have to chase them away. You will only be responsible for cleaning the houses to get the ghosts to leave. So, if you ever get fed up with Tucker, you'll know how to get rid of him."

"I doubt this would keep him away for long." The man replied dryly, earning a chuckle from the redhead.

"So, you've settled in domestically with him already?" she asked gleefully.

Wash only groaned in response, and lowered his voice.

"He just doesn't want to leave, although I told him several times that he could go and that I've already accepted his thanks." the man explained.

Carolina made a contemplative sound, "I asked Tom about that. He said that some ghosts don't want to leave either because they can't let go of the life they had. You know, the domestic things... being together with someone, or they don't want to leave because they have something to accomplish that they don't know about yet. So, either you help him figure it out or you just come to accept that he's around."

Wash sighed deeply. Fucking peachy, this was going to become a funny time for him.

"Anyways, what can I tell Tom?" She asked him then, bringing the subject back to what they were talking about.

After another moment of pondering over the situation, Wash decided to just say fuck it… he would do it.

He had already gathered some experience about ghosts considering that Tucker was around now and he had also done some internet research on ghosts due to his rather uncommon roommate, so why not bring that into his work?

"Okay, I will accompany him on one mission of his. Just to see how things will work and I'll decide after that."

"Neat!" He could hear the grin in Carolina's voice, "I'll inform him then. He'll send you the coordinates for the first mission via phone."

"Okay."

After that, Wash and Carolina were talking about random stuff, mostly about how Carolina and York were settling in and adjusting to living with one another. They also talked about Theta, Delta, and Epsilon and how they were doing with Wash's latest acquaintance.


	3. Becoming a Paranormal Investigator

This was how Wash teamed up with Tom and started working as a ghost hunter and medium. Tucker often would accompany him, but he would keep himself in the background and only jump into action when they were dealing with the ghost of a child, for example.

Wash realized rather early on that Tucker had a knack with kids. Which was pretty obvious given the fact that he had been a dad himself and Junior obviously was a good child.

Wash got up from the sofa where he had been dozing for the last hour. He had a mission the day before yesterday and he still was recovering. Those missions threw his daily schedule for a loop and he often struggled to stay awake because he couldn't get enough sleep to recover.

Damn insomnia.

The ghost that had obviously decided to move into his house was sitting on the ground, watching some kind of cartoon about some Marvel heroes.

"Junior used to love these. He always got up extra early on Saturday to watch them."

Wash felt a strange urge to pat Tucker's shoulder, but refrained since he would be reaching right through the ghost anyway.

"He's doing good, Tucker." In want of other words to say, he just said what came to his mind then.

The dark-skinned man nodded, sending the man a quivering smile in appreciation of his words.

It was silent for a moment, an amicable one, before Tucker asked, "What's the next mission?"

Wash shortly contemplated what the date was today and what was coming, "Tonight. A client called Dexter Grif. He thinks he has a ghost in his house who is a stickler for order and sounds like a nerd."

"Wait, he can hear the ghost? Why did he call us then?" Tucker asked, turning his head to look at Wash.

"He just said that he hears someone talk to him, but that he couldn't hear someone walking around or hear any of the other sounds that someone makes when they are moving around. In any case, he thinks it's a ghost but he isn't sure, so we have to confirm if it is a ghost or not. He's blind. He has a tumor in his brain that is crushing the primary visual cortex."

"Sucks to be him." Tucker commented, "I am happy I am not blind. You definitely are a sight for sore eyes."

The ghost pointedly looked at the TV again, so Wash couldn't say if he was blushing. What he felt was his own face heating up and a question coming to his mind: could ghosts blush when they have no body anymore to provide the blood to rush up to their face?

Pushing his thoughts away, he got up from the couch. It was around three in the afternoon.

"We should get going. Tom is scheduled to show up around four to pick us up." Wash was well aware that Tucker didn't really need a car, but he couldn't help but speak in plural. It felt better than talking only about himself and treating Tucker as if he didn't exist.

Because for Washington, he was very, very real.

"Sure…" Tucker answered, although he sounded a bit distracted.

The blond man decided to leave him be and not prod any further, instead going upstairs and getting dressed and ready. He grabbed some extra clothes and put them in a duffel bag. One of the last missions that they had been on resulted in Wash becoming soaking wet because one of the child ghosts had decided to dump a bucket full of icy water on him.

Tucker couldn't stop laughing then and had almost missed his call to leave before the cleaning ritual started.

During the whole drive home, Tucker had been snickering while Wash was freezing. Tom had the heat in the car on maximum and was sweating like crazy, but Wash had still felt like he had been turning into an icicle.

Consequently, the ex-soldier had to take a break for a week because he came up with a flu right after that. Not all that surprisingly.

An hour later, Wash could hear Tom pull up into his driveway and soon after he was ringing his doorbell.

The owner of the house got up and opened the door for the man.

"Hey, Wash!" Tom was roughly around Carolina's age, and was a fair-skinned man with brown hair and hazel eyes. He was a bit shorter than Wash and had a stocky build.

In any case, when it came to reading the instruments he had his car crammed full with, he was a coryphée. It was crazy what he was able to read off of them.

"Hello, Tom." Wash greeted, grabbing his duffel bag, jacket, and keys to leave the house. While he was slipping into the jacket, Tom was looking around and then turned to the running TV.

"Hey, Tucker." He greeted.

Wash felt a warm, fuzzy feeling appear in his chest when he saw how Tom also greeted Tucker, although he couldn't see him. Sure, he had done some research in Wash's house and knew that there was indeed a ghost living there, but that didn't change the fact that he couldn't see the ghost.

Tucker only quickly waved at the man.

"Tucker says hello too." Wash supplied.

"I didn't, don't talk for me." The man quipped and Wash threw him a dirty glare which Tucker shrugged off.

"Is he joining us today?" Tom asked casually, waiting patiently for Wash to put his shoes on.

That was what the blond man was struggling with the most. Bending down. With a scraped knee and back, it's a bit more strenuous to do so.

"Haven't got any answer from him today." Wash replied, getting up after having put on his first shoe to breathe. A side effect from his back injury. When bending over and squeezing his chest together a bit, he often didn't get enough air into his lungs.

"And miss seeing a nerd in action? Are you fucking kidding me?"

The TV switched off, Tom looking over to it a bit startled but soon calming down when he realized that it was Tucker who did that. The ghost sauntered over to the two living men standing in the hallway.

Wash snorted a bit, "He's joining us." He informed Tom simply, deciding to not say what exactly Tucker said aside from joining them.

"Okay then. Better start now, we have a three-hour drive ahead of us. I'll brief you on the way." The leader of the group explained, observing Wash grabbing his duffel bag and keys before leaving the house.

Wash held the door open a bit longer so that the ghost could leave the house before the ex-soldier left it.

Tom couldn't see ghosts, so despite him knowing that Tucker was around and even knowing to a degree what he looked like, it was still weird seeing Wash acting rather normal around ghosts. When you couldn't see the ghost in question yourself, Wash looked as though he were simply bonkers.

Shaking his head a bit, Tom walked down the driveway and took up his place in the car as he waited for Wash to enter the vehicle. Tucker could enter the car without having to open the door and he had the time to do so as long as Wash was standing there.

Wash sat down in the passenger's seat in the front of the car and threw the duffel bag on the backseat.

Tucker was obviously complaining about something, to which Wash only rolled his eyes.

"Quit being such a baby, Tucker. You can't even feel the pain from the hit. Besides, you could sit on either of the other two seats there." He replied, a bit annoyed.

It was silent for a while until Wash again responded to something, "Not my problem. I am not playing snake men here for you to sit down exactly there."

Pulling out of the driveway, Tom laughed, "Your lovers' quarrels sure are interesting."

"We don't have lovers' quarrels!" Wash protested, and, given the way he looked to the seat behind Tom just then, Tucker must have protested the notion too.

Tom decided to give Wash some space given the way he was sinking into the seat with a sullen expression. He couldn't afford Wash being any more mentally unstable than he already was or he would become a pretty good target for ghost possession.

Driving along the road that his newest co-worker was living on, he observed the seat that Tucker was presumably sitting in.

For him as a ghost hunter, it was rather interesting to see that Wash had a ghost living with him and that neither of them obviously was minding the presence of the other.

He could also observe what kind of influence ghosts had on their surroundings. He often thought that they would cause car radios to go crazy or whatever, but if they realized that someone could see and hear them, they were less perky than they usually were. They still caused quite a bit of a ruckus, but it wasn't as bad as when no one could see them directly.

So, it was kind of a blessing to have Washington on his team and that Carolina had managed to persuade him to join.

After getting out of the city and driving on the interstate up to the place where their latest client was living, Tom started briefing Washington as well as Tucker on the particulars of the case.

Washington would often ask questions that came from Tucker. Since they had started working together, Tom had gotten pretty adept at telling if the question Wash asked was one from him personally or if he was playing the role of speaker for Tucker.

The place that they arrived at was a house that looked rather similar to Wash's, but was located in a far worse part of the city. The house itself was in a far worse state than his was in currently too, Wash could tell that already just by viewing the outside of the building. But given the fact that the inhabitant was blind, that didn't surprise him much.

He knew that the house belonged to Dexter Grif and that there were several rooms subleased in it. Wash suspected that one of the seeing inhabitants was taking care of the lawn and the house so that it wouldn't break down over their heads.

However, it currently looked as though Grif was the only inhabitant since the yard was growing out and the state of the house didn't look as well-maintained as it probably should be.

Ringing the door, they could hear shuffling from inside the house… followed by a loud bang and cursing.

When the door opened, a rather chubby, dark-skinned Hawaiian stood in the door frame with sunglasses perched on his nose.

He was rubbing his left knee.

"Yes?" He asked, annoyance clear in his voice no doubt due to his abused knee.

"Hello, Mister Grif. My name is Tom Myers. You called me and my co-worker to investigate paranormal activities going on in your house?" Tom greeted cordially, although he lowered his voice so that not everyone could hear what he was saying right away.

"Right, I recognize your voice." The man said simply, "I'm Dexter Grif. But I guess you already figured that out." He stated, pointing at his glasses before standing to the side and letting the ghost hunters in.

When Wash entered, he quickly stopped, "My name is David Washington. I am Tom's co-worker." He explained.

Grif nodded to him as a sign of understanding.

Closing the door behind the blond male, Grif turned around and walked past them. He entered his living room that, frankly, looked like a mess. There was trash lying around everywhere and a ton of boxes crammed into the space too.

It was no wonder that Grif couldn't find his way around in all of that mess.

"Holy shit, it looks like a pigpen in here. Even I didn't have so much junk." Tucker exclaimed loudly.

Wash felt like facepalming, but that urge was forgotten immediately when he saw Grif whipping his head around.

"What was that!?" He snapped, before turning to where he could hear Tom sigh, "I thought you were just two people? Why is there a third person in here? Are you trying to shit with me?"

"Not exactly." Wash interjected, "But… Technically, we are just two people. At least two _living_ people." He explained.

It took a moment for the client to realize what Wash had just said.

"You brought another ghost to my house." He stated simply.

He turned in the general direction where Tucker was standing. The ghost had both of his hands clapped over his mouth and he was staring at the human with wide eyes, full of surprise.

Wash couldn't help but grin at that image. Tucker looked pretty idiotic with that expression on his face, but rather cute at the same time.

Calling himself to order in the back of his mind, the ex-soldier sighed again, "I guess I should start explaining then." He said with a look to Tom, who only nodded.

"I can't fucking wait." The client replied dryly, but the wariness from before was no longer evident in his voice.

Wash then started explaining the situation to Grif just as he did with all of their clients, however, he added one or more extra details into the mix since this particular client could actually hear ghosts.

"I am an ex-Navy Seal and due to several close calls and near-death experiences, I am able to see ghosts and talk with them. That's how I got on Tom's team. I am in charge of finding out what keeps the ghosts in this place and then I try to help them cross the bridge and enter the light." He explained.

Grif raised an eyebrow at that but did not say a word in response to his explanation.

"However, I happened to save a boy from a car about two and a half years ago. The ghost you heard is his dad who has since been more or less living with me because he wanted to thank me for that and somehow ended up staying."

Wash gestured over to the ghost, only to realize a moment later that Grif couldn't see the gesture. He threw the dark-skinned ghost a glance to silently ask for help.

"Yeah, dude, that's how I ended up becoming something like a ghost who hunts other ghosts." Tucker further elaborated.

"Huh, a ghost hunting ghosts?" The blind man muttered after a moment.

Tucker took that as a cue to ask, "So, you can hear ghosts?"

Grif made a motion with his head that none of the other men present could decipher, "Since the latest growth of the tumor… I happen to hear them, yes. I hadn't heard them before, but it is obviously pressing on one of the neural areas when it comes to hearing now and that gives me the ability to hear ghosts."

"That's why you think the guy living with you could be a ghost?" Wash asked.

Grif nodded, "Yup. Besides, no living being with standards would live in this house or neighborhood. He sounds like a fucking nerd, and I wouldn't accept someone like that as tenant."

"Figures." Tucker snorted and the client deliberately showed him the one finger salute.

Since their client was blind, Tom had decided that they both would explain even more than they would to seeing clients about what they were going to be doing to put the man at ease.

They were trekking through the house so Grif could explain about all of the rooms to them and say in which ones the paranormal activity was at its strongest. These rooms were Grif's bedroom, his office, and the living room where the activity was the worst. The other five rooms in the house he was renting out didn't seem to be as targeted as the three that were designated for his personal use were.

The leader of the group decided to set up instruments in Grif's bedroom first and observe everything from the living room since that room had the most space.

When they came back from upstairs, all three house guests stood there completely still. Even Tucker was frozen in his tracks.

Grif noticed that and turned around to face them with a raised eyebrow.

Tucker was the first to find his words again, "Dude, when did you clean up the room here?"

"I didn't?" Grif replied, and Wash felt as though he heard a note of insecurity in the man's voice, "Why?"

"Uh, because it's tidily clean in here." Tom added, still a bit baffled about the sight before them too.

"Oh, that." Grif replied, making a dismissive motion with his hand, "That happens all the time. This is why I said that the ghost or whatever it is has some kind of boner for cleanliness."

Tucker looked at Wash and only shook his head. Wash knew exactly what he wanted to say.

There wasn't someone else in the house. At least no living being.

Washington had long ago learned that ghosts tended to have some kind of enhanced sensitivity for other living beings around them.

"Okay, we will take that into consideration. Let's now check the room." Tom decided.

Grif sat down on the couch and grabbed a coke that he was keeping besides the couch so he wouldn't have to move around too much. He emptied the last bit from the bottle and screwed it shut again.

"I'll be sitting here and listening to what you do." He said, throwing the bottle towards a bin standing beside the TV but missing it by miles.

What made Wash suspicious was the fact that he couldn't hear the clattering of the plastic on the ground.

When he turned around, he could see the bottle hovering in the air, or more accurately, he could see the bottle being held by someone standing there with an utterly pissed off expression on their face.

Elbowing Tom, the man turned around and he could feel him gape at the bottle, since he couldn't see the man currently holding it.

What broke the silence was Tucker starting to laugh out loud, which startled the other ghost so much that he let the bottle fall to the ground.

"Holy shit, dude, this guy doesn't only sound like a fucking nerd— he even looks like one!" he wheezed out between fits of laughter.

Wash also had to smile in regards to the display of Tucker laughing so openly and loudly as Grif threw him a smoldering glare.

"I am not!" the redhaired nerd-ghost then squeaked, disrupting the glaring contest between the blind man and the ghost.

"Uh-huh, whatever you say." Grif then quipped.

"Shut up, fat-ass!" The ghost shot back, grasping the bottle and throwing it in the bin.

"I am starting to ask myself why you want the ghost to be gone if he is cleaning up so well? I would want a cleaning ghost myself." Tucker asked with a grin plastered on his face still.

"You have a human to clean up your mess." Wash stated dryly.

Tucker made a dismissive motion with his hands at that, "Stop bitching, Wash, I am not that bad."

"You better not be." Wash replied, looking at Grif and saying Tucker's question for Tom aloud again.

"So then, why do you want us to clean the house and get rid of the ghost?" he asked, keeping the last part of Tucker's question to himself.

"It isn't about the cleaning." Grif replied deliberately, "I'd be fine with him staying if he just did that, but the asshole keeps bitching all the time."

"I wouldn't be bitching if you would just stop making a mess!"

"Shut up, Simmons." The Hawaiian shot back.

Wash blinked, "So your name is Simmons?" he asked the ghost directly.

Said ghost shot up in a straight position and saluted, "Yes, sir! Richard Simmons! It's an honor to meet you!"

"Fucking suck-up." Grif muttered, accompanied by Tucker's, "Nerd."

"Shut up, you unbelievable slob!" Simmons squeaked, and Wash could see his ears turning bright red.

"Well, I guess we don't need the equipment up in the room anymore?" Tom asked, looking over at Wash who nodded.

"I think so too. I don't feel another presence aside from Tucker and Simmons, so I am pretty sure that we won't get another surprise."

Tom nodded, turning off the equipment and looking to where Grif was sitting and bickering with the ghost who obviously was as pissed off as the living human was.

"What are they doing?" Tom asked, looking over to Wash who looked pretty done with the man and the ghost by now.

Wash groaned lowly, "They are arguing like an old married couple." he replied with a suffering tone.

"We aren't!" Grif and Simmons both shot back immediately, soon after falling into another bickering routine with one another.

"They're both denying it." Wash replied lowly, making sure he wasn't talking loud enough for the others to hear over their bickering.

"Anyways," Wash started, drawing both men's attention to him, "I actually wanted to ask you why you're here, Simmons?" He asked, looking at the redhead ghost standing there and fidgeting.

The man needed a moment before he replied, "I grew up here when my dad lost his job and we had to sell our previous house in the better part of town." He explained, looking pained and sad.

"Grif's bedroom was my bedroom and the office was my mom's sewing room where she used to sew things to earn at least a bit of money. And the living room… well I used to be in here when my dad wasn't around." He explained lowly, looking at the ground before adding quietly, "When he wasn't home to beat me up and force me to do "men's" stuff because he thought I was too girly."

"Sounds like your dad was quite a dick." Tucker muttered then, Wash seeing something akin to sympathy on the ghost's face.

Simmons nodded his head in response to Tucker's comment, "I got an infection with a flesh eating virus and my dad refused to bring me to a doctor because he thought I was just too much of a wimp and should man up." Simmons continued, "I died after they amputated my left arm and leg. My dad refused to acknowledge even at the end that it was his fault. If he had just brought me to the hospital earlier, they could have saved me."

Looking to the ground, Simmons stopped talking and obviously didn't want to continue any further.

Tom coughed a bit louder than normal, drawing the everyone's attention back to him. Both men and ghost.

"Well then, this went fast." He started a bit awkwardly, feeling oddly redundant since everyone else living in the room was able to either see or hear ghosts, "Now that we know that there's a ghost here, we need to know if you want us to clean the house and get the ghost, or Simmons in this case, to leave."

He looked directly at Grif who was sitting on the couch with a contemplative look on his face.

The blind man was staring at the place he had last heard Simmons talk from. Wash could see that the redhead was fidgeting with the hem of his maroon shirt, turning bright red again.

"Nah." The man said, smiles appearing on the three paranormal investigators' faces.

Simmons' head shot up with a surprised gasp, looking at the man still sitting there.

"I mean, his constant bitching aside, he cleans the place up… so why should I drive someone like him away?" He asked with a shrug.

Tucker snickered at that beside the ex-soldier and earned an angry glare from Simmons.

"So long as he doesn't freak out any potential new tenants or my sister, I am cool with him staying here." The blind man continued.

A soft expression appeared on the redheaded ghost's face that Wash couldn't help but define as fond.

What Grif said next, however, made Wash frown and smile at the same time, "I am not going to be living long as it is either. The tumor is growing. It's better that I don't piss someone off who could be my boss in the ghost world."

Wash couldn't help but smile because of Grif's fond wording towards the ghost. But he frowned because the man had obviously already finished with his life and wasn't even thinking that he would survive the next few months anymore.

"Okay then, we're clear." Tom said simply.

Washington knew that Tom had heard the words too and that they were bugging him as well. But he had learned from said man that they mustn't get too invested into the personal fates of their clients or they would end up snapping.

That's what Wash was doing. He was distancing himself, and he started putting things away and into the car with Tom while Tucker was giving man and ghost some advice on how to live together. He was advising them so that Simmons wouldn't freak the shit out of people entering the house and so that Grif would know how to prepare people on having a ghost living with them.

Wash was pretty sure that Tucker was suggesting that Grif write into the ad that he was putting up to rent out rooms that the house was haunted. He was pretty sure that there were enough people who wanted to live in a haunted house that he would still get renters.

After having put everything away, they gathered again.

"Okay, we are good to go." Tom said, "If you ever need help again, please call us." He was ever the businessman.

Grif nodded, looking over to Tucker who spoke up next, "Keep us up to date, will you? I wanna hear about how things are going now that the nerd is _officially_ living with you."

A broad grin exploded on Tucker's face and Wash knew that he must have missed something during the time when he was putting the stuff away with Tom.

"I will come and haunt Wash's ass when I am dead." Grif noted dryly, with Simmons looking horrified at the prospect of haunting a higher ranked soldier of the American army.

"Sorry, pal," Tucker replied with a huge grin, "But this ass is taken by me, Lavernius Tucker. Bow-chicka-bow-wow!" Tucker sported the best grin he could muster.

Wash facepalmed and felt his face heat up at Tucker's words, wishing nothing more than to be able to leave already.

"Uh, I guess we better go now." Luckily, Tom seemed to have picked up on Wash's discomfort and started bidding his goodbyes to Grif and Simmons.

They left the house sometime around two in the morning to drive back. Tom insisted on driving so that Wash could try to catch some sleep.

Wash, however, wasn't able to sleep one single minute during their drive home. His thoughts were always drifting back to what Tucker had said. That his ass was already taken by the ghost.

Don't get him wrong! He didn't have sex with the ghost! How could he?

Point one: Tucker was a ghost. Point two: ever since the bomb explosion that Connie had died in and that York and Maine had gotten injured in, his sexual drive was gone for good.

Anyways, he tried to force the blood flooding into his ears back into his body while he continued to think.

As the drive home continued, Wash suddenly realized something.

He had fallen in love with a ghost. With a fucking _ghost_ of all people. How crazy was that?

It wasn't the fact that it was a man–- he had known that he was gay even before he joined the army, but the "don't ask, don't tell" policy had made it easy for him to slip through and not be found out.

What threw him for a loop was the fact that he had fallen in love with a deceased person. That he was feeling those butterflies in his stomach you feel when in love when he thought about Tucker or was around him.

Pressing the side of his head against the cool window, he desperately tried to calm his burning cheeks and erratically beating heart.


	4. Nightmare

Another couple of weeks passed by and it was beginning to become summer again when Wash woke up from yet another mission.

This one was a rather violent one. He had some ugly scratches across his back and he felt pretty beaten since a demon had tried to possess him. Thanks to some training from a demonologist and Tucker's help, the demon hadn't succeeded.

But it had left a nervous twitch in Wash's stomach nonetheless. It had showed him that he clearly wasn't as well protected as he thought he should be.

On the other hand, he couldn't wear the token of protection that the demonologist had given him since it would drive Tucker away too. It would cause Tucker to keep his distance since the token of protection also had an effect on ghosts, and he didn't want Tucker to keep his distance… even if it meant that he would have to sacrifice his safety for it.

He rolled out of bed as Epsilon again woke him by sitting on his fucking face.

Wash walked down into the living room, only to find it empty.

 _Huh? Where's Tucker?_

Pushing that thought aside for the moment, he went into the kitchen and got himself a cup of coffee to start his day.

When he came home after his lunch run that day and found out that Tucker was still missing, he started to worry. He didn't know where Tucker was and he was afraid that the ghost had either gone away, couldn't enter the house because of the token of protection that was hidden away in the basement, or that he had gone into the light without saying goodbye to Wash — probably because he had gotten fed up with Wash's neurotic behavior.

When Tucker casually walked through the main entrance door awhile later, Wash was in full pacing mode. He was completely and utterly riled up emotionally.

"Where have you been!?" Wash snapped the moment the ghost entered the living room, causing the ghost to stop dead in his tracks.

"Uh, I was out for a while? Looking into how Junior was doing?" Tucker replied with a raised eyebrow, trying to process what had gotten Wash so riled up.

"You could have said something!" Wash snapped back, causing Tucker to huff and cross his arms.

"I didn't know that I needed to fill in an absence request whenever I wanted to leave the house." He replied with a scowl on his face.

"You could have said something at least. I thought you went over the bridge or found another house and person that you wanted to haunt!" Wash snapped back, realizing a moment too late what he had said.

His mouth snapped shut with an audible click and his face turned beet red.

"Aww, were you worried about me?" Tucker cooed with a shit-eating grin, "Don't worry, I am a big ghost: I can take care of myself."

Wash only scowled at him for that, glad that Tucker hadn't gotten the hint about him not wanting the ghost to leave.

"Of course, I am worried. How could I not be when we have been living together for months now? With you being a ghost, there are a ton more possibilities that could have happened to you than if you were a living being even." Wash replied, trying to stay on that track of thought in order to keep Tucker's mind busy enough to forget about his slipup.

"Uh, I _am_ a ghost, dude. I don't think I can get killed again." Tucker replied, looking honestly confused.

"But you could have been exorcised if the wrong person noticed that you were around." Wash replied, still a bit panicking.

Tucker sighed at that, coming closer to Wash and resting both of his hands on Wash's shoulders, "But I am still here, you see? I am not going anywhere and I haven't been exorcised."

"Not yet." Wash replied lowly, unable to meet Tucker's eyes and staring down at the ground, relishing in the feeling of Tucker's hands on his shoulders although the touch was a bit cold.

"Dude, I'm still here. See?" He asked, making Wash lift his head and nod silently, "And I am not going to leave until I have screwed at least one living being, bow-chicka-bow-wow!"

Wash snorted and broke out in a loud laugh, feeling oddly relieved from hearing that catchphrase alone since that meant that Tucker really was here, that he hadn't gone somewhere and been replaced with someone else that looked like him but wasn't him.

When he had calmed down, an amicable silence settled between the ghost and the man for some minutes until Wash decided to ask a question that had been on his mind for a while now.

"Tucker…" The ghost looked at him, tilting his head slightly to his right side to silently prompt him to continue.

The ex-Navy Seal took a deep breath before continuing, "I would like to get to know Junior. Would that be okay with you?"

Tucker looked at him with large, round eyes. His eyes were so big that Wash almost feared they would fall out of their sockets.

It took only a moment for the ghost to get himself back in check and answer, "Dude, I am not his guardian anymore. You don't have to ask me."

Taking his hands away, Tucker looked at him with an almost sad expression on his face.

"I know." Wash hurried to explain, "But you're still his dad, no matter if you're alive or not."

His words caused a fond expression to appear on Tucker's face. There was an appreciation growing in his eyes that made Wash reply to the fond smile that had just appeared on his lips with one of his own.

"I want to get to know the boy that I saved. Especially since his dad is living under the same roof as me." He explained with an awkward smile, his hand rubbing over the scars on his neck.

Tucker then sighed suddenly, "I can't tell you if it's okay or not. He went into an orphanage somewhere across the city and, knowing him, I doubt he's there more than is absolutely necessary." Tucker explained with a sad expression once more crossing over his features, "He's like me. I wouldn't want to stay in such a place either."

"I can relate to that." Wash replied, "I lived in an orphanage when I lost my parents in a car crash when I was sixteen. I left the day I turned eighteen and joined the army after finishing school."

The glance Tucker threw him was full of sympathy and Wash thought that Tucker could understand him better now. He even seemed to feel more at ease hearing that Wash had a similar fate.

"However, when I'm outside we have to reduce our interactions to a minimum if I don't want to come across as bonkers." Wash continued and Tucker nodded at that.

"Sure." He muttered absentmindedly, which caused Wash to get a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all…

"I mean, we can still cancel it if you don't want me to go through with it. I don't necessarily _need_ to meet Junior."

"No! No!" Tucker interjected, looking a bit panicked at the idea, "I just… It's the first time after my death that someone cares for him the way you do. I feel a bit..." Tucker trailed off, biting his lower lip and looking out of the window— obviously searching for the right words.

"Overwhelmed?" Wash supplied and Tucker only nodded in response.

"I don't even know if I should come with you." Tucker said suddenly, causing Wash to blink.

"Why is that?" He asked, completely baffled over what Tucker had just said.

"I'm a ghost." He exclaimed suddenly, which made Wash look at him even more baffled, "I am fucking dead! If I touch him and he notices it, he will freak out. I am pretty sure he has already forgotten me. He came to terms with my death a while ago and moved on with his life, not thinking about me anymore." He muttered, now looking down at the ground.

Wash couldn't stop himself when he took a step towards the ghost and mimicked Tucker's earlier actions by placing both of his hands on Tucker's shoulders.

Luckily, he could see and so he relied on his visual senses when he laid his hands on Tucker's shoulders. It felt strange and although he _knew_ that Tucker had no physical body anymore, he felt something akin to a slight resistance in his fingertips. That was probably because Tucker consisted of energy. So, the resistance he felt was coming from the energy field he was consisting of now.

"Tucker," Wash started, searching for the ghost's eyes until he replied to the glance directly, "Junior will never forget you because you're his dad. He will always think about you." He said with such confidence that he almost surprised himself.

It took a moment, but then Tucker started smiling slightly, "Thanks, Wash. That…" he started, gulping before continuing, "That means a lot to me."

"You're welcome." Patting Tucker's shoulder slightly, he then let go of his shoulders and looked at the clock, "What do you think about going out and looking for him tomorrow? I think going to the orphanage and asking them directly holds the most chances of meeting your son?"

"That sounds great." The ghost replied with a relieved and yet happy smile, "Let's get you something to eat."

 _It was in the middle of the night and Wash woke up from his sleep, feeling that something was off. Wash didn't know what it was, but he felt oddly alone._

 _Getting up, he walked downstairs only to find it empty._

 _Tucker usually would stay in the living room during the night so that Wash could sleep as much as he could before he would join him on the couch in the morning._

 _But this time Tucker wasn't around. It was like this morning, but this time Wash knew that something was off._

 _That was until he heard a horrible scream from downstairs._

 _Running down, he could see that Tucker was standing close to the token of protection from Mrs. Jensen, the demonologist. He was screaming in agony and thrashing around._

 _"_ _Tucker!" Wash exclaimed, running over and reaching out for him, but his hand went right through him._

 _"_ _Wash! Help me!" Tucker screamed in horror, and, with the same panic flooding through him, Washington realized that the ghost had been drawn towards the white light. He was being cleaned and drawn into the white light to enter the next life._

 _"_ _Tucker!" Wash exclaimed, turning around and running towards the token, "Stop it!" He screamed and tried to get to the token, but he recoiled as if running into a massive brick wall._

 _He fell to the ground paralyzed, and had to watch in horror as Tucker was drawn into the light and disappeared— always screaming Wash's name and trying to escape his own exorcism._

 _When Tucker and the light disappeared, Wash felt the ban fall from his shoulders and he could move again._

 _He was up on his feet immediately and running over to the place where Tucker had disappeared._

 _"_ _Tucker! Tucker!" he shouted, frantically searching the place, but finding nothing._

 _That was when the scenery faded and a voice became audible._

"—sh! Wash! Come on, dude, wake up! Wash!"

With a gasp, the blond man shot up in his bed.

It took him a moment to realize that he was in his bedroom, sheets tangled around his feet and his body soaking wet. His pulse and breathing were racing and he needed a moment to realize that Tucker had tried to shake him awake. He didn't want to fathom how much energy that had cost him.

"You okay?" He heard the ghost ask and Wash only nodded. He couldn't speak, his throat dry and the lump in his throat too big.

Reaching down beside the bed, he grasped the bottle of water that was there and took some swigs from it before he didn't feel like breaking down when talking.

"I— yes. I am okay, Tucker." He rasped, putting the bottle back down.

"I hope that was a good dream. You were screaming my name all the time. Bow-chicka-bow-wow." Although joking, Wash could hear the anxiety in the ghost's voice. He was just trying to lighten the mood.

Wash shot him a thankful smile at that, before turning stern again.

"I saw you getting exorcised by that fucking token downstairs." He grumbled, getting out of bed and walking downstairs at a brisk pace with Tucker hot on his heels.

"What?" he asked, baffled.

"I said I saw you getting exorcised. Now, if you'll excuse me and stay upstairs… I am going to get rid of that horrible thing!" Wash stopped short before he went down the first flight of stairs.

"But," Tucker replied, "It's your token of protection to keep demons away!" he protested, but Wash looked at him pained.

"It also keeps ghosts away. It keeps _you_ away." He clarified, "I don't want you to have to stay away just so that I can be safe."

Wash's pained expression then obviously stopped Tucker from saying anything else. He let the human walk down the stairs and get rid of the token.

Since Wash had just dreamt about Tucker being exorcised by that thing, the ghost supposed it was better to wait in the bedroom until Wash was done.

About half an hour later, the man came back to the bedroom. He looked tired.

"It's gone."

The tone Tucker heard then was definitely a relieved one. He shot Wash a smile.

"Thanks for doing that." The ghost said after a while, watching the man sit down on the bed.

This caused the ex-soldier to look at him in confusion.

"I mean, not everyone would sacrifice their safety to keep a _ghost_ around." He further clarified.

Wash smiled at that, "I like having you around. I don't want you to leave if you don't want to." He said slowly.

"I'm glad." Tucker got up and stretched his limbs.

"What do you think?" He asked after he was done stretching, "Do you want to go back to sleep? You look like you could use it."

Wash contemplated his words and nodded in the end, "I guess I will try." He said at length before lying back down, huddling up in his blanket. He had a huge bed, but mostly only used one side of it.

He blinked a bit in surprise when Tucker flopped down on the other side of the bed and rested a hand on Wash's that was lying beside the pillow.

"Uh— What are you doing?" he asked, voice already a bit rough from sleep.

Tucker turned on his side so that he was facing Wash, "I am staying here, duh." He said as if that was the most obvious explanation in the world, "I am making sure you sleep and that you sleep well."

A smile crept over Wash's face and he squeezed Tucker's hand gently, "Thanks, Tucker."

Something unreadable flashed across Tucker's face then and Wash couldn't quite place the expression, but he decided against asking after it and ruining the moment.

"Sleep now, Wash. Good night." Tucker said after a while.

"Good night, Tucker." Wash replied, closing his eyes and enjoying for some moments the feeling of having someone lying beside him before he fell asleep.

He never slept so well as he did in this night with Tucker close by.

That was how it came to be that Wash was standing in the hallway of the orphanage and waiting for Junior's guardian to arrive.

It turned out be a woman who was a bit older than him. She looked way too cheerful for his liking.

"Oh, you must be David Washington! It's a pleasure to meet you! I already heard from Junior how you saved him when he walked out onto the street without looking. It seems as though you got away without any outstanding issues too. I am glad!" She immediately started.

Wash ignored the snort he heard from Tucker who was standing further away than usual. He looked uncomfortable.

Wash focused back on the woman standing there and chatting away happily.

When she stopped for a moment, the ex-Navy Seal decided to interject, "Yes, exactly. However, I am sorry… I don't think I caught your name."

"Oh, my dear! Where are my manners? My name is Emily Grey. I am the head of this orphanage."

"Ah, I see." Wash replied, "So is Junior here?" He immediately threw another question out, just to keep Emily Grey from letting lose another torrent of words.

"Of course, I will see where he is and call him over!" she said happily, but Wash grabbed her arm when she was just was about to leave.

"You don't have to do that. Just tell me where he is, I would like to meet him on his own ground where he feels safe." Wash knew what it meant to be called to the front desk where strange people were standing and regarding you like you're a high valued painting. He had hated it and didn't want the kid to suffer the same.

An almost fond smile appeared on her face as though she realized what he was thinking just then before she gave him the directions to a place in the yard where no other child would be save Junior.

There was a bush and if he went through it, there was a shady little clearing that Junior had claimed as his own.

Walking towards the bush, he could see that Junior was sitting behind it in the shade.

"Look at him, how big he's become." He heard Tucker say from beside him, sounding like the proud parent he was although he was still a ghost, "He's thirteen now, and he's so big and handsome… just like his dad."

Okay, now Tucker was getting arrogant, but Wash decided not to answer in favor of not coming across like a crazy old guy in his first impression from his ghostly crush's son.

"Junior, are you there?" He asked instead, hearing nothing coming from there, but he could see the boy's reaction to him by looking over the top of the bush.

"I am David Washington. The guy that saved you. Do you mind if I come in?" he continued, hearing the boy making a sound he knew from Tucker. He knew that this sound was an affirmative one.

Ducking underneath the bush, he entered the clearing. He could see the boy sitting on a grassy patch in his teal hoodie, although it looked old and worn.

"How are you doing?" Wash asked when he sat down on the patch across from him.

"Like shit." Junior replied.

Wash could see that he had inherited a lot of his dad. The same piercing blue eyes, the same facial features, almost the same voice. He was the spitting image of his dad and he could see a younger version of Tucker in him.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the two, and Wash didn't really know what to tell Junior.

"Dude, tell him about your past." Tucker whispered lowly into his ear.

That gave him an idea.

"You know," Wash started, Junior still looking down at his phone, "I was in an orphanage too when I was younger. My parents died in a car crash."

This got Junior's attention and he looked up to regard the man sitting opposite of him.

Wash nodded, "I always had a list of the days I spent there and the days I still had ahead of me until I could leave in my left shoe." He explained and felt the surprised glance of the ghost accompanying him boring a hole through his skull.

Wash was smart enough to not ask about where Junior had his. This was a private thing and no kid from an orphanage would ask another one about their list.

It was rather surprising when Junior reached into his hoodie and pulled out a medallion. When he opened it, he could see a picture of his dad and his mom, as well as a neatly folded piece of paper.

Closing and putting the medallion away again, Wash felt an odd sense of sympathy.

"You carry yours with your parents?"

Junior only nodded at that.

"I am sorry about your loss. Would you mind telling me what happened?" Wash asked carefully, and it seemed that was all that was needed to get Junior to talk.

Wash suspected that nobody ever had asked him that out of personal interest to get to know him better.

And, as if a dam broke, Junior started telling him about his life with his dad. How awesome it had been and how he was sorry that the last thing he had said to him was that he hated him because he had forbidden him to go to a party shortly before he died.

That he regretted that up to today but still remembered the days when they had been living together, that he was missing him even more than he did his mom since he had never gotten to know her. That he wanted those days back instead of living in this place and that he hated living here since it was not with his dad.

He was just a number here in a huge house where people came in all day to adopt kids, but since he was "too old" for most of the people coming and dark-skinned on top of that, he never stood a chance of getting adopted. It was only mostly the white and much younger kids who got adopted.

It was only after Mrs. Emily Grey called Junior and Wash for the third time that Wash called it a day and promised that he would come again to visit him.

In addition, he gave Junior his phone number and told him to call him whenever he needed someone to talk to.

Driving home, he noticed Tucker being oddly silent but decided to let him be.

He had met his son for the first time in almost two years after his death, after all. He probably needed some time to process what had just happened during the last few hours together with Junior.

When they arrived home, Wash let Tucker and himself into the house and got a cup of coffee.

He sat down beside the ghost on the couch and took a sip before speaking up.

"He didn't forget you. And he still loves you." Wash stated, which made Tucker nod numbly.

"Yeah, I— I don't know what I should say to that." He muttered, staring out of the window.

"I think it's best to say nothing if you don't know what to say. Just feel happy that he didn't forget you and still loves you." Wash said calmly, standing up to get himself some water after having emptied the cup of coffee.

While standing in the kitchen, he could feel Tucker coming into the place as well.

Turning around, he could see that the man was looking at the ground. He was pretty sure that he still was struggling with everything that had just happened.

"Do you think I was a good dad? I mean… he's talking as if I am the greatest thing in the world, but maybe he just thinks that he shouldn't talk ill about me. I feel like a failure because I died before he grew up to be independent. I feel like I failed at being a good parent to him. I often thought that it would be better if his mom survived instead and I had died. She was always much better with kids than I was."

Wash didn't know how to reply to that.

He walked over and laid a hand on Tucker's shoulder instead, "Tucker, you did what was possible to make sure that Junior was growing up without worries and problems. He's a good boy and that's only because you did all you could to raise him well." Washington explained calmly, looking at the ghost who was still looking down at the floor.

Wash froze shortly when he felt Tucker step in and lean against him. It was strange, but it didn't feel much different from a normal person doing so aside from the touch being a tad colder than usual.

He didn't know if it helped Tucker or if it looked completely idiotic, but he carefully lifted his arms and started wrapping them around the ghost until he felt the resistance of the energy field from Tucker.

"You were a great dad, Tucker. Otherwise, your son wouldn't talk so highly about you. So, stop doubting yourself. You couldn't choose your fate and I am sure Junior isn't holding that against you. He might be angry, yes, but he's angry at whatever deity it was that took you away from him so early. He isn't angry at you for leaving so early since you couldn't have done anything about it." Wash explained, hearing Tucker drawing a shuddering breath.

When he felt Tucker's energy field press against his arms, he opened his embrace and let Tucker step away.

He wiped his eyes before he looked up to the man and smiled, "Thanks, Wash."

"You're welcome." He replied, taking the glass of water and going into the living room with the ghost to watch some movies.

There was a mecha movie airing today. _Battle Ship_. He would watch that with Tucker and give him some hours to forget about things.

When Wash went to bed that night, he didn't need to have another nightmare for Tucker to appear in his bedroom. And neither would he have to for the next several nights, as Tucker would join him in bed every night from here on out.

He would just lie beside him and hold his hand.

Surprisingly for Wash, his nightmares started to lose their scare and eventually faded into nothingness whenever Tucker was around to hold his hand.


	5. Adoption

From that first visit on, Wash would visit Junior regularly.

It started with a few visits a month, until he was visiting Junior at least three times a week to talk with him and help him with his homework.

When he was working, or didn't visit Junior, the boy would call him and talk with him.

They started becoming closer and closer, and with every visit passing Junior started opening up more and more to the man. That continued up to the day when Junior asked a particular question.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" he asked Wash suddenly.

They were sitting in the same clearing as always and talking about pretty much everything under the sun.

"I do. Why do you ask?" Wash replied, trying to keep his tone light though his attention was focused on the boy.

He shrugged, trying to play it as casual as his dad did whenever he was unsure about something, "I often feel like there's someone else with you when you're here. I also often feel like there's someone around Doctor Grey wherever she is. It feels like…" he shrugged his shoulders, "Like someone is with you and her. Like someone else." He finished.

He looked at Wash, somewhat lost.

The ex-Navy Seal knew that this was a crucial subject and if he wasn't careful, he could destroy Junior's trust in him.

"I believe there's more between heaven and earth than we tend to believe." Wash slowly started to explain, "Do you know that people can start to see ghosts after a near-death experience?" He asked, an idea striking him.

Junior nodded, a bit taken aback.

"That's what happened to me. I went through quite a bit of shit when I was in Afghanistan."

Junior nodded to that. He had already heard about that part of Wash's past.

"Well, after I saved you, my house started being haunted." He explained with a crooked smile.

Junior looked at him with open curiosity. For a kid in his age, Wash concluded that this must sound like the coolest thing ever.

"Well… look, Junior. The ghost, or the entity you are feeling around me…" Wash looked over to where Tucker was sitting currently and Junior followed his glance, "It's your dad, Junior."

At that, the boy looked at him. His expression had suddenly turned guarded.

"My dad." He replied curtly.

"Yes. Your dad. He came to me after his death to thank me for saving you." Wash explained.

"You're saying that my dad is here? Are you sure?"

Wash smiled.

This boy had a sound skepticism, and that was quite alright.

"Your dad has a scar on his abdomen from a bar fight before you were born. A guy drew a knife. There's a speck of brown in his left eye and a little scar from another brawl through his eyebrow. His catchphrase is bow-chicka-bow-wow." Wash replied, feeling a bit awkward due to how both son and father were gaping at him with their mouths wide open.

"How… How do you know all of that?" the boy asked after a while, while Tucker was still looking at Wash with that strange fond expression on his face.

"He told me about the scars sometime ago. That thing with the eye is something I noticed pretty early on with him deciding to stay with me and become a special roommate to me so that I wouldn't be that lonely." He started, a fond smile appearing on his face, "And his catchphrase… well, he spouts it about twenty times a day."

"Hey, it's at least thirty!" Tucker protested.

"Oh, my bad. It's at least thirty times a day, I was just informed." Wash said with a crooked smile, looking over to where Tucker sat and giving Junior the hint as to where he could find him.

"You know, Junior." The boy didn't look at Wash, but the ex-soldier knew that he was listening, "You are very perceptive on the medial base. You can feel things others can't without training. If you underwent training, you could maybe even see ghosts. You could help ghosts and others as a medium, so that ghosts can enter into the next life and people can find peace." He explained, looking at the boy who regarded him carefully.

"Really?" He asked after a while, and Wash could see Tucker practically beaming.

"Really." Wash replied, "You have a great basis of abilities and with a bit of training, you could make a great medium. Even better than I am."

"But how…?" Junior asked.

Wash pondered over that. How would he be able to sharpen Junior's abilities? He had woken up with his abilities as they were now. How could he teach someone something that he didn't know?

With a sigh, Wash shook his head, "I guess I am not the best person for that. But if you want, I can ask a friend so that he can train you. He had to learn to sharpen his abilities too." Wash explained, "You can do that. I am quite sure about it."

This drew a small smile out of the young boy, only for it to be wiped away when he heard Grey call for them.

"Guess time's up, huh?" He muttered, getting up on his feet.

"Seems like it." Wash also rose to his feet and followed Junior out of the clearing.

Before entering the room, however, he stopped Junior and looked at him.

"Hey Junior, why don't you show your dad the room you are living in currently?" he asked, looking over to Tucker who looked at him with big eyes, nodding frantically.

"Uh, sure. I don't know if he's going to like it though." He bit his lower lip, just like his dad did.

"He's going to love it." Wash replied with a smile, sending the Tuckers ahead.

Entering the hall, he could see Emily Grey standing there. She looked a bit confused.

"Junior went upstairs, he wanted to get something done." Wash explained casually before walking up to the leader of the orphanage.

"Mister Washington." She started, looking stern, "I know you are living alone and your situation isn't the best, but I wanted to ask you if you want to fill in a request to adopt the boy."

Wash looked at her, baffled.

Grey only nodded, "He's comfortable around you. He trusts you more than anyone else, even more than me. I am worried about him. He's already been asked to come here to the desk several times, but every time that's happened, he wasn't the one getting a new family. He was always the one who was left." She explained, a sad expression on her face when she remembered those heart-wrenching scenes.

"I—" Wash started, not able to fully process what she had just said.

He had never been good around kids, and now he was being asked to adopt one? Grey sure had trust in him.

He heard Junior return, and hurried to say, "I will think about it. Thank you very much, Mrs. Grey."

He then turned around to the boy who had just appeared again with a letter in his hands.

He gave it to Wash, "This is for you, Wash."

"Thank you, Junior. I will make sure to read it carefully when I am at home." He replied with a smile, ruffling the curls on the boy's head.

Tucker undoubtedly would have the same curls if he didn't have dreads.

"Uh— and Wash?" The boy was fidgeting nervously.

"Yes, Junior?" He asked.

"Can you make sure dad doesn't read it? It's kind of embarrassing." He muttered, then he turned on his heels and ran away without a goodbye.

Grey was shouting after him to come back and properly say goodbye, but Washington said that it was okay as he put the letter in the inner pocket of his jacket.

"It's rough growing up in an orphanage." He said, and Emily Grey started smiling knowingly.

He bid his goodbye then and left the orphanage with Tucker in tow.

He felt that Tucker was holding something back. He could feel it, but decided against saying something.

That was, until they were in the car.

Tucker sat in the passenger's seat when he burst out, "What the fuck!? I shouldn't read the letter? What is that about!?"

Wash sighed, "He's fifteen, Tucker. At that age, kids tend to have little secrets from their parents. Besides, growing up in an orphanage isn't an easy time. You don't have such an attentive and loving parent like you have been who always listens to their problems there. There you have to solve the problems on your own. Nobody is going to help you more than absolutely necessary."

Tucker huffed, but didn't say a word.

Wash knew that Tucker was brooding, but decided to let it be.

At home, Tucker excused himself and went into the garden to sit on the canopy swing. Wash knew that he had done that to give Wash space to read the letter.

Sitting down on the desk at his office, Wash made sure that Tucker wasn't eavesdropping when he carefully opened the letter.

There were several pages attached, but he first focused on the letter.

 _Dear Wash,_

 _I am pretty sure you've been asking yourself why I asked you to read this without Dad knowing about it._

Wash smiled. Junior was like his dad, always direct and forward.

 _I am living in this orphanage for almost two and a half years by now and I feel like snapping. The days are always the same and the only ray of hope that I have is when you are coming over or when I can call you up whenever I feel like I need someone to talk to._

 _You know, although I can't see Dad... I always feel like he's around. That he is with you whenever you come to visit me._

 _And you seem to know so much about me, in just the way that Dad would probably describe me until the day we had that fight and he died._

 _You know, I wasn't there when it happened. I got the call, but when I arrived at the hospital, he was already dead. I didn't even have the chance to tell him that I am sorry and that I love him. And how he is gone and I will never have the chance to do that._

 _That's what I regret the most._

 _He's the most awesome dad that ever lived. We didn't have much, but Dad always did what he could to make me feel happy. He thinks I didn't notice, but I often noticed that he wasn't eating so that there was more for me and to save money so that I could go on the school field trip, for example._

 _However, Dad is gone and you are the closest thing I have gotten to him in all these years._

 _Don't get me wrong. Dad will always be my dad, but if someone were to come to adopt me... I wish it would be you._

 _Or someone that is like you. But I hope it will be you._

 _I don't know if you have a family or how you are living, but if I have a wish that I could make, I would wish for you to become my new family._

 _Please think it over, okay?_

 _Best wishes,_

 _L. Tucker Junior_

Turning the page, he could see a full set of adoption forms attached and Wash couldn't help but laugh at that.

Looking at the documents, he remembered Emily Grey's words from today. That Junior trusted him more than anyone else, even with all of the baggage that Wash had been carrying around. Even with the PTSD he had.

They had a connection together that nobody else was able to build up with that boy.

He was overlooked more often than not when it came to adoption because he was "too old" and black, and that made Wash's stomach churn.

The boy was cordial, well-raised, and quite smart. Don't even get Wash started on his strong medial ability that could be turned into something incredibly powerful with a bit of training. He was a boy whose life had been filled with loss and hopelessness thus far.

However, Wash also had to consider the fact that adopting a kid would mean a lot of work and responsibility for him.

He would have to risk a lot and probably have to take up a job besides his ghost hunting to gain enough money. The payment he received from the military wouldn't be enough for both himself and a child. But funnily enough, he didn't care.

Maybe through working another part time job together with his ghost hunting, he would be able to bring the boy home. He didn't have any mortgages to pay, after all.

He shook his head and put the letter with the form back in an envelope and hid it under a pile of invoices that he had to pay.

He would think about it, he decided.

When he met Junior the next time, he gave him a letter that he had written after putting Junior's away.

It roughly said about that he would be thinking long and hard about what the boy wrote him, that his dad didn't know about it either, and that he would like to keep it a secret.

He would let the boy know whatever he decided.

Wash didn't want the boy to have his hopes up only to get them crushed later on.

However, the ex-soldier thought with a small smile while he walked out of the house with Tucker in tow, it seemed like his heart and mind had already decided for him and that he only had to think of the way in which he could finance it.

When they were home, he went up to the office to make a call.

When he came back down, he could see Tucker sitting on the couch. He looked rather gloomy.

"What were you doing up there, dude? Were you holing up in there?" He complained the moment that Wash sat down.

It wasn't like in the beginning anymore, where one was sitting on one side and the other on the other side of the couch. They were now sitting beside each other, their shoulders knocking together as though Tucker still had a body.

"I had to organize something. Don't worry, you won't have to move out." He added with a grin.

Tucker looked him over, "As long as I get to stay to sleep with you." Tucker replied with a grin, "Bow-chicka-bow—AH!"

With a squeal, the ghost was up on his feet and staring at the corner of the living room where two figures had appeared.

Wash was on his feet and putting himself in-between Tucker and the two figures until he realized who it was and a wave of sadness, yet also happiness, flowed through him.

He knew these two.

There was Simmons, holding onto the arm of a chubby man.

Grif.

Walking up to the pair, Tucker came to a stop beside Wash.

"The tumor?" He simply asked and Grif nodded, rubbing his eyes and looking around somewhat blearily.

"He's still adjusting to being dead and seeing again." Simmons supplied when Tucker and Wash looked at the pair, a bit confused.

"I see." Wash replied.

"When did it happen?" Tucker then asked, looking at Grif who shrugged his shoulders. He looked a bit helpless.

Simmons sighed, "About half an hour ago in the hospital close to where we lived. The doctors are with his body. We actually wanted to inform you before we went." The redhead said.

Tucker nodded.

Wash, realizing something, smiled, "Looks like you managed it after all. Congratulations."

Tucker looked confused, but his confusion soon melted into a grin of his own as realization hit him about what Wash was talking about, "Yeah. Way to go, assholes."

"Oh, shut up. Get your shit together first." The Hawaiian said something for the first time and Tucker looked at him before blushing – yes, Wash was sure that he was blushing – and coughing awkwardly, "I don't need to rush. I guess I have another couple of years ahead." He replied with a grin.

Grif and Simmons smiled, until the redhead carefully tugged at their intertwined hands, "We need to go." He muttered softly.

Grif smiled fondly at him and nodded.

"Anyways, we need to go. Take care of yourselves, assholes." Grif then said, Simmons nodding his head in agreement.

"Please be careful, sir. Tucker." Simmons nodded to both of them once more, with Washington and Tucker only nodding back because they were at loss for words.

Wash saw how their outlines blurred and how they became more and more transparent until they vanished completely.

"They're gone." Tucker muttered, still looking at the place that they had vanished from moments ago.

"Yeah. I hope they're going to be fine, in whatever live is awaiting them there."

Tucker only nodded, still staring at the spot where Grif and Simmons had last been seen, holding hands together.

"You know, I am afraid to go there." Tucker muttered suddenly, "I am afraid to enter the light."

Wash only looked at him, "Why's that?"

"I don't know. Mostly because I am afraid to never see Junior again and to not be able to be around the people I love. You know. Sounds fucked up, I know. I am pretty much a wimp for chickening out like that." He started rambling, but Wash stopped him by resting a hand on Tucker's shoulder.

"It's okay to be afraid of the things you don't know, Tucker. I would not think any less of you for that."

Tucker looked at him with a small smile, "Thanks, Wash."

"You're welcome." Wash replied.


	6. New Beginning

There were several different missions coming up from Tom, so Wash called Junior up to inform him that he wouldn't be able to visit him though he promised to call him every day after school.

The next time that Wash pulled up to the driveway of the orphanage after the missions were done, Tucker was again talking excitedly about Junior.

Although he knew the story by heart now, he loved to listen to Tucker when he became excited over his son.

The ex-Navy Seal couldn't help but smile fondly at what was going to happen.

After one of his grocery runs without Tucker, he had stopped by the orphanage to check on something with Emily Grey while the kids were at school.

She had called him up two days ago, saying that it went smoothly and that he could pick Junior up today to move him to his new home as his new adoptive dad.

Wash could remember her first looking utterly and completely baffled, before her expression melted into one of the fondest and happiest expressions he had ever seen.

The ex-Navy Seal could see how happy she was that someone was finally, _finally_ adopting Junior and not always picking someone else. That Junior was given a chance to have a loving home with him.

It probably helped that he was a war hero and had now started seeing a psychologist regularly to get his PTSD in check.

Wash got out of the car, looking over to Tucker, "You ready?"

"To see my kid? Sure, I am!" The ghost exclaimed happily.

Wash smiled, knowing that the surprise would be even bigger this time. For both Tuckers.

Junior only knew that someone would come to adopt a kid today, but Wash had asked Emily to not tell Junior who would come and that he already had gotten adopted, since he wanted it to be a surprise. For both Tucker and Junior. He just asked her to get him ready to leave today.

Entering the orphanage, he could see Emily standing there with a huge smile on her face, "Ah, Mr. Washington. I see you're right on time!"

"Right on time?" Tucker asked, looking at the man in confusion, but Wash only winked at him when Emily wasn't looking.

She had turned around and gone upstairs to get Junior.

The boy was coming down with a sullen expression.

"Aw, why do I have to pack up my stuff again? It's not like I am getting adopted this time round." He exclaimed loudly, obviously in a grouchy mood.

Well, Wash was sure that he would be able to lift his spirits.

He heard a choking noise from behind him, Tucker had obviously caught on to what Wash was planning to do and why he had holed himself up in his office for so many hours.

Thanks to his influence, he was able to get some more money from the veterans' insurance, not even having to take up another job to get a good income out of the veterans' fund and the ghost hunting. The guys from the government were obviously still trying to bury what had happened in the desert with them having to do shit that was far beyond fucked up in the so-called Freelancer Unit and had agreed immediately when he said that he needed more money because he wanted to adopt a kid from a recently deceased friend.

The money was more than enough and albeit not being the type normally to do so, he had gotten himself an advantage out of the situation they had put him in. They would bleed for fucking him over, only to make someone he loved happy.

Two people, in this case.

With a smile, Wash looked up at Junior who was still trudging down the stairs with a sullen expression on his face.

"And here I thought you would be happy if I came to get you." He said in mock disappointment, which made Junior stop dead in his tracks.

"No way!" The boy exclaimed.

"Yes way, kiddo." Wash chose the nickname that Tucker had given his son when he was still alive.

"You really came to adopt me!?" he asked incredulously.

"Yep, you're officially moving in with me today. So, you better hurry up since we need to get a lot of stuff for your new room." Wash replied with a fond smile on his face.

Before he had the possibility to say anything more, Junior was down the stairs and had flung his arms around the man.

"Thank you, Wash!" he cried into the crook of his neck when Wash caught the boy in his arms.

"You're welcome." He said fondly, adding after some moments, "Now come on, let's go. We better hurry."

Junior untangled himself from the man, grabbing his backpack with his few belongings.

He looked more than ready to go, but Wash stopped him, "Go say goodbye to Emily and thank her."

Junior rolled his eyes and he could hear Tucker snort behind him.

"Go." He ordered and the boy did as was asked, saying goodbye to Emily Grey and thanking her for looking after him.

After that, they left.

First, they went home where Junior Tucker saw his new and rather big room for the first time. A room that was only for himself.

Putting down his backpack, he didn't have much time to stay in his room since Wash ushered him out soon after that, going next to the shopping mall with the boy. They bought a ton of clothes for him, along with a bed, mattress, dresser, desk, bedside table, and many more things a boy his age needed for living.

Returning home, Wash threw all the clothes and the bedsheets into the washing machine so they would be clean for the evening. After that, Junior, Wash, and Tucker went to put together all the things they had bought for the boy.

Junior's dad often would give Junior little things like screws.

At first, Junior had looked freaked out, but he relaxed immediately when Wash explained who it was—

even saying thank you to his father.

Soon they fell into a father-son-dynamic that Wash didn't want to interrupt and so he stayed in the background, doing other things.

It was Friday and Wash had no mission coming up as he had informed Tom about the upcoming adoption and how he needed to help settle in the son of the ghost that was living with him.

Wash decided to order pizza for them and make tonight a movie night until they fell asleep on the couch.

The clothes were washed and put away, and the bed was ready to be slept in for the first time. Junior looked happy like he never had in his life.

School would continue on Monday. However, since he was living with Wash now, his school was even closer.

The town was so small, they only needed one school and Wash happened to live close by it.

When Junior fell asleep, tightly huddled up in his blanket against Wash, the ex-soldier switched the TV off and carefully carried the boy up to his room to put him to bed.

Tucker had been oddly silent during this whole time, watching Wash and Junior with a fond smile on his face.

This, however, changed when Wash closed the door to his bedroom to go to bed himself.

Before he was even able to turn around properly, the ghost had both of his hands on either side of Wash's face and was kissing him fully on the lips.

Immediately, heat shot up in Wash's face when he realized what Tucker was doing.

"Wash! This— This is crazy!" Tucker exclaimed, kissing him again, "I never imagined that you would be doing something like this when you were holing yourself up in that room for days on end!" he exclaimed happily in-between kisses, "You're so crazy, you know that? You're awesome! You're crazily awesome!"

Another kiss, "That's why I fucking love you!"

Another kiss, "And you… possibly don't like me that way…" struck by that realization, the ghost let go of Wash's face.

He retreated with a look of horror and pain on his face when he realized what he just did, "Shit, dude, I'm sorry, I—"

However, he didn't go much further when he felt how Wash rested his hands on his own, grasping them gently to stop him from retreating.

He smiled fondly and shook his head, "It's okay, I feel the same way." He replied.

He felt how the grip on his cheeks became stronger and, a moment later, he again felt Tucker's lips on his.

The next day on Saturday, a friend of Tom and Wash's, Jane, came for a visit. She was a medium herself and gave Junior his first lesson in learning to sharpen his instincts in order to become a medium like Wash.

About a month later, with Junior being taught almost every Wednesday and Saturday, he was able to see his dad for the first time in about three years.

It was a rather big and emotional meeting.

Wash decided to have coffee with Jane in his kitchen to give both father and son their space to catch up on the past and talk about what they had wanted to tell the other for so long.

When Junior finished high school, he decided to go to college to study medicine because he wanted to help people suffering the same fate as his dad. Tucker couldn't have been prouder of his song for that. Wash felt proud too, since he felt strongly connected to the boy.

Aside from college, Junior started working as a ghost hunter too, helping people as well as ghosts find their peace.

Wash and Tucker couldn't have been prouder.

Years rolled by, with Junior graduating and moving into an apartment close by with his girlfriend who had accepted even his abilities to see ghosts and his work as a ghost hunter.

They married soon after and five years later, Kathleen, Junior's wife, was pregnant with their third child. The oldest boy's name was Lavernius like Junior and his father, and the girl was named Finley. A name for the baby hadn't been decided yet, since neither Junior nor his wife wanted to know what gender the baby was until it was born.

Both Wash and Tucker couldn't have been prouder yet again.

These two were living their life together, Wash never regretting not having driven Tucker away and adopting his kid one single day.

It was what made his life livable after the war.

It had given it a new purpose, he realized when he went to bed one evening when he was an old man of eighty-two-years-old.

Tucker still looked like he was twenty-six and he often envied the ghost for that, but he knew that Tucker loved him, no matter if he was old now and had snow white hair.

He woke up in the middle of the night and felt strange. Like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He felt a bit sluggish, although his was more a feeling like he was waking up from anesthesia.

Looking over to Tucker and seeing the sad yet fond, knowing and compassionate smile that was crossing over his features, he knew that his time to move on had come too.

The ghost stretched out his hand and Wash grabbed it to get up.

For the first time in all those years, he could really feel Tucker. Not only the energy he consisted of, but he felt him like he had a real body.

Tucker pulled him into an embrace, giving him time to adjust to his new form. Looking over, he felt a strange feeling in his body when he saw himself lying there: old, white-haired, and unmoving.

Tucker knew himself firsthand that it was confusing and a bit strange at first when you wake up and realize that you're dead. When you look at your own body and realize that you are a ghost now and ninety-nine percent of people can't see you anymore.

It always helped when there was someone with you when your time came, someone knowing about what would happen when you died. Tucker freaked out the day he died because he had nobody explaining to him what had happened. He had nobody telling him how he would feel and that he didn't need to be afraid.

Which is why he didn't want to leave Wash's side too. He had wanted to be there for the man, whenever his time came.

Tucker had a sinking feeling all day long that Wash would join him this night. He couldn't put a finger on what it was exactly, but he just _knew_ that his partner would cross the bridge tonight, so he stayed awake all night until he realized that Wash's body had stopped moving and breathing – when he realized that the worldly shell of Wash had died.

Pulling the slightly bigger man into a hug, he felt as he did all those years ago.

Wash looked handsome. Just this time, for the first time… there were no scars, no pain in his body. He was looked as he did all those years ago, maybe even a bit younger. Blond hair, steely grey eyes, well-trained body.

Just… beautiful.

The dark-skinned man couldn't help but pull the bigger man into a kiss.

Intertwining their fingers, he murmured, "Let's inform Junior and then we're off. Sound good?"

"Aren't you afraid of going into the light?" Wash asked, remembering the talk they had so long ago.

He leaned down, resting their foreheads together.

"Not when you're with me." The dark-skinned man shook his head, tugging at their intertwined hands.

"Come on." Tucker smiled, pecking Wash another time on the lips.

A smile appeared on the ex-soldier's features. Fond and loving.

"Okay, let's go." He then said, pulling Tucker into another hug.

Sighing contentedly, Tucker closed his eyes as he leaned against his boyfriend for real for the first time.

When he opened his eyes again… it was after a weird as fuck dream about an earlier life and to his annoying as fuck, high-and-mighty-acting, super-hot, badass CO shouting at him with his voice being at least an octave higher than usual.

He was standing in the door to Tucker's room to wake him up like every goddamn morning since they had crashed on this godforsaken planet somewhere in the nowhere.

" _Private Tucker..._ for the love of _God,_ would you _please_ stop sleeping naked!"

 **\- The end -**


End file.
